The 2fort Chronicles: Season 1
by Mr. Zed
Summary: The story of the two mercenary squads of 2fort, and the odysseys they go through every day. Episode 1, W M1: Spy and Pyro, well, more like Spy and Scout, make a bet that Pyro can keep moving with his finger on the trigger the entire battle. Who will win?


**The 2fort chronicles**

**Episode 1**

**W+M1**

**(A/N: In case you haven't played the game, the Medic has a German accent, and the Spy has a French accent. R&R for a free invisible cookie!)**

**(Main characters are from red team.)**

_***BREEP! BREEP! BREEP! BREEP! BREEP! BREEP! BREEP! BREEP!* **_

A hand reached for the "snooze button" on the blasting alarm clock next to it's owner's bed. The Pyro snapped his black fireproof mask on his face, tucking in some of his hair that hung on the back of his neck back in the mask and grabbed his trusty flamethrower from his weapons rack and carried it off towards the rec room.

Pyro walked in the room snapping on his rubber gloves. He said hello to Scout and Sniper, the only ones who could understand him under the mask. Scout was laying back with his feet on the center table, while he was sipping _Bonk_, and Sniper and Spy playing a game of Billiards on the right side. "Good'ay mate!" Sniper said, barely tipping his head or turning towards his masked teammate. Spy just let out a "hmph!" And continued his billiards battle.

Scout was Pyro's best friend, even though the options were limited, considering there were only two people who could understand him out of eight. Although they still had really great teamwork, and Scout was the first person to care about understanding Pyro. "Yo, wassup man?" Scout said, waving for his friend to sit down by him.

Pyro leaned his flamethrower up against the wall and sat down. "Bonk?" Scout offered, shaking his spare can in front of Pyro ("Spare" meaning "fourth"). He gave an unintelligible, muffled response and Scout shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself." He said, opening his second can. "Yo, watch this." He said after opening his third can, juggling three open, full cans, catching any stray drops with his tongue.

"A disgusting display, monsieur." Spy said to scout, sinking the eight ball, and turning back to sniper. "Check and Mate, Monsieur Sniper."

"Blimey, mate, you're bleedin' me dry here." Sniper muttered, searching through his wallet and handing a fifty dollar bill to Spy.

"You sure you don't want any Bonk, Pyro? You might wanna prep for today's fight." Scout said, sipping from one can and continuing with his juggling.

Spy just chuckled as he slipped the fifty in his suit.

"Something funny?" Scout said, shooting a cold glare at his nemesis.

"You see, enfant, joor friend Pyro ees a coward. He's fireproof, he can just dance around, and he is so skittish with his fiery weapon." It was kind of true, the teams that occupied 2fort were only there for a few weeks, but it was kind of pathetic that the "fire-spewing maniac" was afraid of a flamethrower.

"You want to make a bet?" Scout said, crushing an empty can of Bonk with his bandaged-hand.

"Of what kind, te petit enfant?" Spy chuckled.

"I bet Pyro here can keep running and keep his finger pressed down on the trigger the ENTIRE battle today." Scout smirked, crushing his second can of Bonk.

"Alright...And when he doesn't, what shall I receive?" Spy asked, interested in an easy bet. Pyro tried to speak up, but all that was heard were muffles, and Scout and Sniper were too caught up in the display.

"He'll wash, dry, and iron ALL your suits for a month." Scout volunteered.

"Very well."

"But WHEN he WINS..."

"Very well, I shall entertain your fantasy. What does he want?"

"Depends. What do you want, Pyro?" Scout asked, turning towards his friend. A few muffles came from under the mask, at which Spy raised an eyebrow, but Scout understood.

"When he wins, you need to clean all his equipment and the char off of his suit for a month." Scout interpreted, a broad grin on his face.

"Yeah, but how're we gonna know if Pyro here actually does it?" Sniper asked.

"I will watch him, from the shadows." Spy said.

"Oh nonononononono. No. We need a third party here, butterfly." Scout replied.

"It's a Butterfly _Knife_ you imbecile."

"Whatever." Scout said, crushing his last can of Bonk.

"Vy me?" Medic asked, loading needles into his syringe gun.

"Well Sauerkraut, you're as fast as Pyro, you can take almost as much damage as him, you gradually regenerate from your wounds when you're not under fire, and you can make sure he spends as much time in enemy territory as possible." Scout explained.

"Vell..I don't know.."

"C'mon, this is to _prove Spy wrooooong._"

Medic's face lit up. He hated spies, always masquerading as the injured and dying just to acquire his aid.

"I vill do it!" Medic agreed, shaking hands with Scout.

* * *

11:59 A.M, Thirty seconds to battle.

_"Mission Begins in thirty seconds."_ The announcer's cold voice echoed throughout the fortresses.

Pyro felt he was going to puke. He knew that if he died he'd be brought back to the revitalization room, but he believed he'd be charging blindly to his doom.

"Alright Pyro, remember, use your compression blast if you see any pipe bombs, rockets, or carpet bombs." Scout reminded his friend, polishing his _Sandman_ baseball bat.

"5...4...3...2...1!" The voice of the announcer boomed throughout the bases.

"LETS DO IT!" Demoman shouted, charging off with the Heavy and the Soldier. Pyro was off like a rocket, rushing off the battlements and onto the bridge, his flamethrower blazing.

"Maggots!" The BLU Soldier cried, shooting a glowing blue rocket at Pyro.

Pyro almost leapt, but remembered Scout's advice as he blew the rocket back at the soldier, causing him to explode into crimson giblets.

The Pyro chuckled under his mask. This was kind of fun! He lit the BLU demoman on fire, which was just plain hilarious!

"Fire! Fire! FIIIRE!!!" The enemy shouted, running in circles and frantically shooting pipe bombs at the Pyro, blown back at him by his target.

Loud laughter was heard from the inside of the Pyro's mask, almost maniacal. The fire-friendly mercenary sprinted into the BLU base, spewing fire. He burned down a sentry gun set up by an enemy engineer, and then he burned the engineer himself. Pyro couldn't stop laughing. The fire...It was so powerful! This felt amazing!

A loud, almost metallic sound came from behind the Pyro. He turned, still spewing flames, and ignited a spy about to backstab the German referee of this bet. "Sank you..." Medic said, astounded by the Pyro's offensive power. But they just kept moving, and Pyro kept spraying, laughing all the way.

It was a matter of time before Pyro stumbled upon a spiral hallway. Seeing some carpet bombs in the entrance, he rolled them out of the way with a compression blast. He blazed his way (dun-dun, ***CRASH***) to the intelligence room. There it was, sitting right there on the desk. Classified intelligence, of which nobody knew about. Pyro turned his back to the Intel as he picked it up, so as not to set it ablaze.

Pyro dodged rockets, bullets, and grenades galore as he ran back to the base. He was slammed into by a BLU scout and almost lost his balance, but regained it shortly after the foe was brought down by a barrage of syringes. Suddenly, the medic's healing stopped. Pyro turned around to light up the assailant, a BLU Spy standing over the Medic's body, but he was taken aback when he realized he was out of fuel!

_"Keep running. I just have to keep running and keep my finger on this trigger!" _The Pyro thought as he made a mad dash for his base. On the bridge, the Spy was shot by the RED heavy, but he didn't go down before landing a shot on the Pyro's shoulder.

The wound bled profusely as Pyro kept sprinting for the intelligence room. With each step, his own heartbeat grew louder. With each step, his back became more and more drenched in blood. His finger was pulsing, aching from holding the trigger for so long. A figure appeared from thin air in front of the Pyro, walking down the spiral hallway to the RED intel room.

"Ah, monsieur, I see you're quite weary." Spy said, letting out a despicable chortle. "Just give in, joor so close to dying by blood loss." He grinned, walking alongside the now limping Pyro.

If eyes could shoot daggers, The Spy would be brutally mutilated. Of course, the Frenchman didn't know that, not being able to see past the mask.

Pyro exited the spiral hallway, the blood now leaking onto the floor and leaving a trail behind him. Spy began to panic.

"Come on now, just sit down. This whole...Moving forward business is quite trivial." Spy spat out frantically. He began to sweat under his red latex mask. Sensing Spy's panic, Pyro received a second wind. He could see the intelligence desk. Just three steps away and the bet would be over. Three steps away and he could take his blistered finger off of the trigger, three steps away he could collapse and rest. Three steps away seemed like three miles.

"STOP IT!" Spy exclaimed, grabbing the back of the Pyro's outfit. Pyro kept his finger on the trigger, but with his bloodied free hand slapped the Spy in the face, sending him to the ground. "No...No!" The Spy whined, reaching out for the Pyro and yanking his foot out from under him, causing the Pyro to trip.

* * *

"Lemme get this straight, you captured the intelligence while falling down? Crazy Drongo!" **(A/N: Tell me what Drongo means and u get a free air guitar signed by the members of Aerosmith (in invisible ink) :D)** Sniper laughed, toasting glasses with the Pyro. He had changed into some fresh (non-bloodied) clothes for dinner that night.

"I'd just like to see Spy try getting the blood and char off of those clothes! That's going to take forever!" Scout laughed, sipping some Bonk.

"Don't you EVER crash from that stuff?" Engineer asked in his Texan accent.

"I come from Boston, man. Enough said." Scout replied and drank from his can.

"Well, do ya know where Spy is? I wanna take apart that sapper of his, see how it works."

Sniper chuckled. "I think he's going to be occupied for a while."

French cussing could be heard down the hall, along with the sounds of running water and scrubbing. "So much blood!" Spy shouted, furiously scrubbing at the black fire-proof suit.

(A/N: R&R please? Reviews are reeeeally appreciated.

Criticism = Why not?

Flaming = Right back at you retard.)


End file.
